جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 20

~YVONNE POV~I stood in front of my closet for twenty minutes that morning, staring at the blue wrap dress. It was still in the garment bag.Still had the tags on.I had told myself I wouldn't wear any of them to work. That would be crossing a line. These dresses were for Liam's lessons. Not for real life.But I couldn't stop thinking about what he would say.'Confidence isn't something you feel. It's something you perform.' I pulled the dress out of the bag.Put it on, and looked at myself in the mirror.I looked different. Not just the dress. Something about the way I was standing. Shoulders back. Chin up.I looked like someone Arthur might notice.The office lobby was packed when I walked in. I kept my head down, weaving through the crowd toward the elevators like I always did.But then someone whistled, it was low and appreciative.I looked up.A guy from accounting was staring at me. Not the way men usually looked past me. Actually looking. Seeing me.My face burned. I ducked int

~LIAM (THIRD POV)~Liam walked across the bar.The floor was sticky. The music was too loud—some country song he didn't recognize. A few heads turned when he entered, women mostly, eyes remaining on his face, his build, the expensive watch on his wrist that didn't belong in a place like this.He ignored them.His eyes were on Yvonne.She hadn't noticed him yet. She was slumped over the bar, her black hair falling forward like a curtain, one hand wrapped around a glass of something amber.Whiskey, probably. The blue dress was wrinkled, the wrap coming loose at her waist.She looked small and broken. He stopped next to her, he did not sit, he just stood there, hands in his pockets, waiting.Finally, she looked up.Her eyes were red-rimmed. Mascara stained under her lashes. She blinked at him like she wasn't sure he was real."You came," she said, her voice thick, sluggish."You look like hell."She laughed. It came out bitter, broken. "Thanks. That's exactly what I needed to hear." Liam

~YVONNE POV~I sat there on my bed in my wrinkled dress, mascara-stained and hungover, and cried until my stomach cramped.Then I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I forced myself up. Splashed cold water on my face. Looked at myself in the mirror.I looked like death.Red eyes. Pale skin. Mascara smudged down my cheeks like war paint. I forced myself to smile.Arthur was trying to move past what happened in his office. That was good. He wanted to see me. That was good. He didn't mention Holly. That was good.This was progress. I just needed to think positive. I forced the smile wider. It didn't reach my eyes.My phone buzzed.I walked back to the bedroom, wiping my face with a towel.A text from Liam.Liam: 'Wine bar. Wicker Park. 2 PM. Don't be late.'No. Absolutely not. I couldn't face him. Not after those texts. Not after that voicemail.I typed quickly.Me: 'I'm sick. Can we reschedule?' His response came immediately.Liam: 'No. This is part of the lesson.'I stared at the screen

~LIAM THIRD POV~The brunette was still talking."...and I know this place in River North. Really private. Great cocktails. We could....."Liam wasn't listening.His eyes were on the door. The one Yvonne had walked out of three minutes ago.He could still see her face. The way she had looked at him when he told her to make him proud. The hurt in her eyes before she had turned away.He told himself it didn't matter. She was a tool. A means to an end. Nothing more. But his chest felt tight."So what do you say?" The brunette leaned closer, her hand on his arm. "Want to get out of here?"His phone buzzed. Thank God. He pulled it out. Freddy's name on the screen."I have to take this," he said, standing abruptly.The brunette blinked. "Oh. Okay. I can wait.....""Don't bother." He walked away without looking back.Liam answered the call as he pushed through the bar's front door."Freddy.""Mr. Klein." Freddy's voice was as cold and professional as always. "Your father has agreed to see yo

~YVONNE POV ~The quietness of the penthouse was louder than any alarm clock.I woke up reaching for him. My hand moved over the cold, soft sheets on Arthur's bed, but there was just empty space. I blinked as the morning light came through the thin curtains, and it hurt my eyes.He was gone. Again.There was no note on the nightstand. No glass of water left out for me. Only the mark of his head on the pillow and the smell of his pricey aftershave, which was starting to go away.I sat up, pulling the sheet tight against my chest. The shame didn't just pass by; it stuck to me like a second skin. It felt heavy and hard to breathe.I had stayed.After everything—after the red lace panties in the cushions, after the half-hearted lies, after the way he had touched me like I was a desperate afterthought—I had stayed.I was pathetic.And I knew it. I sat there in his expensive sheets, in his empty bed, and I hated myself. Hated that I had let him touch me. Hated that I had moaned for him whil